Foot Traffic
by StalkerPedoMario98
Summary: A septiplier au :3 hopefully turns out well - CAUTION: I'm a slow-ass writer so be ready for loooong waits (I'm so sorrrryyyy I get writer's block like you wouldn't belieeeveee)
1. Chapter 1 - Hungry and Confused

Jack had paused on the corner of the busy, Manchester (Virginia) street to wait for traffic to let up. Every few minutes his stomach would grumble noisily like a revving motorcycle, and he knew he would need to stop for something (cheep) to eat before heading back to his apartment. He'd meant to get groceries on his usual Saturday stroll into the inner city across the bridge, but had gotten caught up with by a man hissing at him for drugs because he somehow knew Jack knew somebody. That had been enough to sever his shopping mood and he'd stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his shabby hoodie as he'd warily sulked off through the streets. He'd walked aimlessly for hours, and it was becoming dark by the time he found himself near home again.

 _What a waste of time. Fuckin' asshole couldn't've gone dry for another day?_ He thought disgustedly as the cross walk signal changed to allow him access to the other side. The cars lined up on either side acted like run way lights in the darkening evening, making Jack feel too revealed - too noticed. He could feel eyes staring at him, surely furious they were forced to stop for only a crude little string bean as himself.

Once to the other side he continued to keep his head down, anxious to be rid of any kind of public eye. It was as if they knew what he was and what he did - though not out of the ordinary (still not very acceptable) - and was judging him with hatred and disgust that he also shamefully acknowledged in the mirror everyday. _What a sewer rat._

A door jingled a block ahead of him, causing him to look up and see a man and woman exiting the local mini restaurant "Papa's Pizza". He'd been in there once or twice after a deal had gone well in order to treat himself; it was a little pricey, but had good quality.

The man and woman laughed at an unheard joke as the door closed smoothly behind them. Jack stood at the corner of the next block over with choices pacing around in his mind. He shouldn't be planning on spending anymore money on anything before getting his groceries, but he most likely wouldn't be able to get what he needs from across the bridge until tomorrow after daybreak; it was a rule. He didn't really like it, but he'd promised...

Shaking his head to dispose of the deepening thought, he stepped off the curb and headed for Papas. As he stepped inside, he nearly feinted from the thick aroma of pizza and garlic, allowing it to swarm his senses and gnaw at the ever growing hunger in his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything since the night before, and that had been the last of his Wheaties with week old expired milk.

The man at the counter sported an all black uniform with slashes of white powder (most likely dough) slung across the front. Jack smirked as his mind wandered to the inappropriate sanctum of his imagination before he gathered himself and approached the man.

"Hello, welcome to Papa's Pizza - what would you like to order?" the man whose name tag read "Wade" asked generously, a goofy though knowledgeable smile showing his teeth and upper gums. He seemed nice enough.

Jack squinted up at the board, having known for a long time that he's needed glasses, but not having the money or insurance to afford the prescription; he also didn't see the point since he was only ever needing to see things up close. Barely being able to make out "Lasagna : $9.99", he sighed and pulled out his tattered wallet (with a detailed vintage eye drawn in green, fine-tip sharpie by his old friend back in Ireland) and rattled off what he wanted while handing over a ten and a one.

Wade nodded and suggested he sit at one of the many tables to wait. Jack obliged and slumped down into a table up against the street facing window, watching mindlessly as traffic piddled by. Eventually his order arrived and he dove on it like a starved dog. The rich, thickly textured sauce and stringy cheese stung his tongue, and he played around with pieces of soft noodle in his mouth like it were a second tongue to try to dampen the smart. It also made him feel somewhat giddy inside if he did this with his eyes closed and at a slow tempo.

The sudden jingling of the door piqued his curiosity enough to open his eyes and glance up to watch a rather cute guy flaunt in, the top of his hair a striking scarlet. Jack raised an eyebrow and smirked again, his interest in this new man causing his cheeks to burn slightly.

"Hey, Mark! Haven't seen ya for a while. Things going OK at the new apartment?" Wade asked less formally to Mark, his general and kind question laced with the concern of a close friend. Mark shifted on his feet, seeming too anxious and tangled up in thought to give a sufficient answer, seeing as he muttered, "Hey, Wade. Yeah it's alright. Look, can you just take my order and shut up?" as his eyes were most likely dancing to and fro at the menu above.

"O-ok. Well, what can I getcha, man?" Wade tried his best to push past the awkward moment, placing his hands on the counter to steady himself. Jack bit at his lip from where he sat, hundreds of things he was aching to say simply piling up at the tip of his tongue.

"I'd like a small supreme pizza, extra toppings, a side of bread sticks, and a medium Pepsi." he listed as he pulled out a surprisingly neon pink wallet with a black mustache printed on the front. Jack gripped his fork as he watched him pull out a wad of cash before fingering through for the correct amount and stashing the rest away.

 _He has enough to buy groceries for a month or two_ , he thought - not with disgust, but amazement. If only Jack had that kind of profit...Mark had taken a seat at a table in front of him, and was facing Jack, although his face was buried into his phone. _Typical_...

Jack didn't own a phone, though that had nothing to do with his financial issues. He not only didn't feel he would ever need one, he also didn't want one. He couldn't see the point. He guessed it couldn't help that he had no one to communicate with in the first place - that definitely made his other reasons more viable.

He didn't realize he'd been staring at Mark for an inappropriate amount of time until a terse "Hey! You! What are you staring at?!" was shouted at him. Jack shook his head with wide blinking eyes and a slightly slack jawed frown before stuttering out, "Uh-uh- you?!" which earned him an odd smirk from the red headed wonder.

"Yeah alright - fair enough." Mark stood swiftly and sat himself in a chair in front of Jack, stunning him and spiking his annoyance. Why couldn't Jack just eat his meal in peace? He knew he'd started this by staring at the stranger, but did it really call for an advanced personal conversation? Jack sat back in his chair as he took another bite of his lasagna, taking his time to properly look the man up and down.

"So, what's your name - 'Leprechaun from down the street'?" Mark jumped into questioning him with a coy grin as he leaned forward, folding his hands together on the table as if they were in a formal meeting. Jack raised an eyebrow and swallowed his food, heart beat picking up against his will. Something about how forceful this guy was somehow caught in his throat and clenched at his stomach - or maybe that was just the lasagna talking and Mark was actually just a giant dick bag. Jack wouldn't mind either situation considering he was quite familiar with both.

" _Jack_ from down the street, actually. And you're Mark, right? I heard Wade call you that so I figured..." he quickly followed up when he was given an odd look from his questionnaire. Not a moment had passed before Mark cracked a kind smile, and suddenly stretched his hand across the grey linoleum table. Jack's eyes widened for the second time that day and slowly reached out his own hand, gripping Mark's and producing the correct amount of pressure to somehow communicate that he was gladdened to meet him. The shake was firm and moved with a friendly jaunt, but was soon ended by Jack pulling away after meeting Mark's curious and secretive gaze. His chocolaty brown eyes were filled with an odd sense of warmth - something that made Jack feel both uneasy and somehow comfortable. Either way it unsettled his nerves, and when they were separated he pushed both hands below the table, cradling the one that had been electrified by Mark's touch.

"Uh, nice to meet ya, Jack from down the street. Pardon me, but your name sure is a mouthful.." Jack smirked as dirty images flashed through his perverted mind as he continued to listen, "...where about on this street do you may dwell?" Mark asked inquisitively, straightening in his chair as he feigned a posh accent. Jack rolled his eyes, allowing a stupid grin to show his teeth.

"Oh I live in the sewers and only come out when I think there'll be a rainbow nearby. Luggin' around my big ol' pot o' gold is a hard not life for such a little guy like me'self." he explained, trying to sound as completely believable as he could in spite of his usual 'fuck off' attitude. He was starting to like the idea of Mark's company.

"Holy shit - that's awesome! Dude you should let me visit some time. I loooove gold." Mark strung out, giving Jack a playful wink and causing him to blush. Suddenly Mark was standing again and Jack wasn't sure if the last few minutes had even happened. He watched Mark slightly sashay his way to the counter and mutter a few things to Wade before shouting his goodbyes to the both of them on his way out the door.

Jack blinked hard as Mark jogged across the street between traffic and continued on towards an apartment building just out of view. He let out a heavy sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding for the most of his encounter, and dragged a hand down his face to relieve some tension as he attempted to collect his thoughts. His mind was still reeling at what had happened when Wade came over and set a large take out bag on his table along with an empty medium sized cup.

"Wha~"

"Mark said for you to have his order. He had something he needed to take care of and figured you'd appreciate it more than him. He's a nice guy - once you get past his hard ass shell - and can be pretty humble when it comes to helping people out. He also asked me to keep an eye out for you and if I ever see you milling about the streets looking like you're starving again, to put a meal on his tab and give it to you." Wade explained simply, a caring grin complimenting his funny features. Jack was stunned into silence, his mouth running dry and his hands becoming clammy as he mentally took a step back and assessed the situation.

So this stranger whom he'd just met was now practically his care giver? What made Mark believe Jack was a totally poor apartment renter (who paid off his rent with money he got from selling drugs and working quick, dirty jobs) who'd decided for a warm delectable meal instead of a couple weeks worth of shitty groceries? Was it the way he was dressed? Had Mark seen how ravenous Jack had dove into his meal? Maybe that feeling in the pit of his stomach had happened to Mark too...

Jack shoved the thought away with a sneer and grabbed the cup before clambering past chairs and tables to fill it up with Pepsi. He was only able to afford water wherever he went out to eat (including his current meal) so being able to gulp down something as artery clogging as a simple Pepsi really upped his game; for some reason or another. He wasn't keen on buying packs of the stuff with his groceries simply because he needed nothing else to get hooked on to ruin his life - just a taste here and there was enough for him.

After giving himself a generous amount of the sticky bubbling liquid, he thanked Wade several times while pushing his empty plate into the man's hands and setting off with his goodies. He couldn't be more befuddled by what had transpired in the span of 15 or so minutes, but decided to keep Mark in mind as he headed home to stash his large gift in his small mini fridge, hoping it holds out long enough to keep the meal cool for at least a few more days - hopefully even a week.

Mark had no idea how grateful Jack was, and as Jack laid his head down to sleep that night he couldn't stop thinking about him. Not just in the "man, thank God for that guy - he saved my ass for a while", but also "shite he was somethin' or other - if ya know what I mean". Jack felt in the wrong thinking such odd things about someone he didn't even really know, but it felt...correct. Oddly acceptable.

He fell asleep with the word 'scarlet' slung in the arms of his dreaming mind.


	2. Chapter 2 - Pain and Desire

How had he gotten himself into this mess of a business?

He wish he were home under his blankets reading "We the Living" and listening to Billie Holiday on his record player (it was one of the few things he brought over to America with him). Instead though, he was striding under the mass of clouds with a grim look and a medium sized brown paper bag tightly gripped in his pale hands. Life could be better.

The small gravel rounds crunched under his footfalls, puffs of dust and dirt kicking up as he reluctantly moved forward. His hands were sweating and his toes curled in his ratty converses, the heavy wind pressing against his body as his nerves clamped down around his mind. He chewed on his bottom lip and forced himself to breath calmly as he approached the meeting spot. A chill ran down his spine and his skin pricked up in goose bumps when he spotted his boss who was casually flipping a knife in between his fingers; always a good sign.

"Oh here he is - hey, Jack! Got the shit like I asked?" Trace, his boss, asked nonchalantly, a lick of fire to his words as he glanced from Jack to the bag clutched tight in his fingers. Jack pressed his lips together to form a firm line, his heart shooting off like a race horse as his eyes wandered to the knife.

"Yes, sir." his voice is stable despite how badly he was freaking out on the inside. "Actually, I'm a few dollars short, but it's not enough to make a difference...I hope you're OK with that. I know you asked for all but the guy I sold it to short payed me and by the time I figured it out I couldn't find him anywhere. Others said he skipped town as soon as I left. I didn't know what to do so..." Jack slowed to a stop, taking in Trace's terribly unamused expression with his widening blue eyes. He knew he'd screwed up as soon as he couldn't find the guy, but now the realization hit him harder than a brick to the gut.

"Jack Jack Jack...oh Jacky-Jack, I wish I could be just " _OK with that_ ", but...I don't think that's true to how I really feel." Trace inched closer to him, his movements swift like a wolf stalking it's prey. Jack gulped and backed up against the cement pillar, his slightly trembling hands now clutching the bag to his chest. He felt like a kid being bullied for lunch money...except it was always more than that now.

"Please, just- let me go to the bank and I'll get you the right amount from my personal account! I promise this will never happen again! You gotta understand, Trace, the guy was already-"

"I don't care about the other guy! I depend on you alone to get me my money no matter what, and you failed. You think I can just sit back and give you the go ahead with a sad smile, pat on the back, and a 'better luck next time'?! YOU FUCKED ME OVER, MAN!" fire raged in Trace's eyes as he was nearly at Jack's nose. Spittle flew from his thin lips and Jack flinched and grimaced and winced time and time again, waiting for the big punch line.

"...so you know what I've gotta do, don't you?" Trace's words stabbed Jack's heart and froze him as the tension steeped into the most unbearable silence. Trace backed up a step or so, looked Jack up and down like he was sizing up livestock, and as he pounced on Jack, he brought up his knife. Jack's eyes widened and his mouth parted in a silent scream as he did his best to evade the weapon, wishing he had his own Swiss knife in his back pocket. His friend had hidden it due to a constant scolding that he was worried Jack would hurt himself like he had before. The friend had meant well, Jack knew it, but right now he hated them.

Jack felt the knife breeze just over his stomach as he jumped out of the way, breathing quickly and sweating up a storm. Trace's empty fist connected with Jack's face as his knife hand recoiled and went to strike again, his movements quick and dangerously calculated like a king cobra. Jack couldn't imagine the number of fights he's most likely been in.

Only a few minutes hitched by, but to Jack it felt more like years. The more he tried to avoid contact, the worse he'd get it - he was utterly broken, unable to take the punishment much longer as black dots swam into vision.

"Please...fuck...stop..." Jack groaned, his eyelids fluttering as he lay in the fetal position against one of the concrete support legs of the bridge. Bruises covered his body and his right ankle was twisted a funny way (although there was nothing funny about it).

"You better get me my right amount 'a money next time, or else you're dead. Ya hear me, you little shitter?!" Trace's voice pierced his ears and he shrunk even farther into himself as another blow came to his lower back. The heated stomping of footsteps ensued, and Jack could feel tears welling up and spilling over onto his bruised cheeks.

How had he gotten himself into such a business?!

Surely there were many jobs he could have instead of this sketchy, near death experience line of work. Surely...

Something quiet and soft landed nearby - and many after it did the same. For a solid moment he was utterly confused until the odd noises picked up, and he realized it was just raining. Pouring, actually.

Perhaps if he crawled out into the open the rain could wash him clean. Perhaps there'd be much more acid in the rain than usual and it would burn his skin off, allowing him to rot out in the sun after it moved on. That would be quite fitting, he thought disgustedly as he opened his eyes to the distant thump of his heart. Well, either his heart was preparing to rip free from his chest or someone was coming - running down the gravel/dirt pathway.

When he cranked his neck up to look around the pillar, his heart nearly stopped - it was none other than Mark, the guy who'd been far too kind to such a scum as Jack. Mark didn't even know the half of it...and Jack wanted it to stay that way. He'd rather Mark find him lying here dead than alive and in a state of consciousness - meaning questions would be asked. Jack had never been good at lying either, so he knew what he'd have to do.

With a series of hisses and groans he somehow managed to crawl down behind a large pile of rocks. He laid his head on one near the edge and watched in pitiable silence as Mark jogged past, somehow totally unaware that a broken body of someone he barely knew laid behind a pile of debris.

Soon Mark disappeared around the corner as he continued on - Jack's stomach had shifted a little when he saw how toned the other man had seemed to be. He could imagine Mark's muscular arms wrapped around him, protecting him from Trace and keeping him safe and secure. Jack hadn't felt safe and secure in years.

He pulled his knees up to his chest like he'd done before and let a shudder strike through his damaged soul, a sob following close behind. Why did he do this to himself?! Why could nothing go right?! Why was he still alive?!

The last thought, though it had crossed his mind many times before, scared him shitless. _Just like it must've to her all those years ago..._

The rain poured down harder, and he sobbed harder than he had in a long time.

How had he ended up with such a life?


	3. Chapter 3 - Lost and Loved

Jack connected his hands on top of his head and let them rest there as he looked out over the differing landscapes before him. Nothing felt real to him anymore - the trees, the birds, the skyscrapers, the people - none of it.

Even though his childhood hadn't been the best, he wished he could fall back onto his old twin bed and stare up at the cracked ceiling. The glow in the dark stars one of his brothers had scattered all over the ceiling would be twinkling down at him, and he'd grin tiredly as his eyes fluttered closed. He wish he could fall asleep knowing he'd have an actual life to wake up to - not this shit he'd gotten himself into now.

He felt that familiar tickle work it's way up the back of his throat and behind his nose, the ducts around his eyes letting loose some of the pressure building up through an awkwardly timed yawn. It was only ten or so in the morning, and the sun was making it's way up the sky -slowly but surely. He wondered how it managed to get up every morning, always so bright and happy to bring on the new day. He'd never been very good with optimism.

As he tried to look past the lovers' locks on the chain link fence, he didn't realize someone was coming up the stairs to his right until they spoke.

"Nice day, huh?"

He jumped and spun around, heart pounding and ready to strike with his clenched fists. When he took a moment to see who it was, his heart was pounding harder for a different reason.

It was Mark - that guy from that time Jack was just being himself; a no good bum who didn't deserve Mark's kindness and generosity. He was so nice to Jack...he couldn't believe he was seeing him for the third time. He must really like walking this path.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Jack stuttered, and Mark's expression contorted from a normal, kind grin, to surprised recognition.

"Hey!" he tilted his head, "You're that guy I helped out in the pizza shop a few weeks ago! How...how are you?" his eyes were wide with concern which made Jack's heart burn.

"Well, not great, but I'm breathing so I guess that's a good thing?" Jack tried to sound sarcastic, but he knew he wasn't convincing Mark or himself. He was really in a lowest of the low points in his miserably pathetic life. Not that Mark should care.

"Oh, man, that really blows - is there anything I can d-"

"No! No...I'm good. Really. Even if you did help me, I'd be in such a great debt I'd never be able to pay back, and that's not how I work. So thanks..but no thanks." Jack interrupted; he hated hand outs - the only reason he accepted the food a few weeks ago was because he was caught up with something else on his mind and was too late to stop him. He had gone home that night with a full stomach, and an even bigger debt to worry about - the worst to try to pay back are ones from strangers.

Jack chewed on his bottom lip as Mark drew closer.

"Dude, you don't need to worry about paying me back or anything. I'm a charity worker - a volunteer. I do these things because I care for people and would rather do something for them instead of looking away. You'd actually be doing me a big favor by letting me help you...wait, pardon me, but what's your name again?" Mark looked at him like he would ball up his hospitality and shove it down Jack's throat if he could. Jack wouldn't mind something else down his throat...

Jack's eyes widened with shock for a moment - what the actual fuck?! He didn't even know Mark and he was already having gross fantasies? This guy was obviously a fucking saint - there was no way he'd ever do that in the slightest to anyone anyways; especially to a suspicious bum like himself. His eyes darted about before stuttering out his name.

"It's Jack...well my real name is Sean, but everyone calls me Jack. Just a weird Irish thing. My mom would call me Jack and it just stuck so I'm good ol' Jackaboy, haha..." Jack paused and closed his mouth, realizing he was rambling like a fool. His neck grew red as Mark's grin flourished into the most vibrant and honest smile he'd seen in ages.

"Oh, alright, hello Jack! I'm still Mark, good ol' Markimoo. Though I don't know if the origin of my name is as interesting as yours." he commented flawlessly, the chuckle which shook from within his chest coming out dark and hearty, causing Jack to crack his own crooked attempt at a grin. He hadn't really done it in so long. Not genuinely, at least.

"So, Jack, what brings you up here on such a lovely day?" Mark skipped through asking him about his fading visible wounds which he just caught sight of as they both turned towards the fence. Jack looped his fingers through the links and gripped it tightly, deciding to think long and hard about the real reason he'd made the tiring trip up all the stairs just to see a view he'd seen hundreds of times.

"Well, I suppose to think. It's always nice to stand above other things and take on a different perspective. Of course with different perspectives comes old ones you'd abandoned, which isn't easy to get around but..." he looked to Mark, meeting his deep, earthy eyes, "...sometimes you've gotta face it to get past it. You know?" Mark's once bright eyes grew sad, and Jack looked away, not liking to see the not so cheery side of this charitable man. Although it did excite him a little bit to know that even the happiest could know sadness and hurt.

Birds cooed as they perched in droves on the humongous rocks all along the James River, their black feathers reminding him of crows, but their slim bodies reminding him of weird ducks. He'd know what they were if it weren't for some assholes who scratched all over the information sign at another lookout. Mark noticed Jack squinting at the birds and chuckled in spite of the lingering conversation.

"Those birds are called 'Double Crested Cormorants'. Pretty weird looking right?" he added, and Jack nodded slowly, dumbfounded that the couple year mystery had been solved. He'd tried to figure it out with a friend before, but they just weren't sure.

"What do you think the meaning of life is?" Mark popped the question out of nowhere after suggesting they took a stroll, having commented on how annoyed he was to have those locks blocking the view. Jack had shrugged and said he didn't understand why people wasted money on something that would probably never last.

"That's just it though - there is no meaning. We have no other 'purpose' or 'sole mission' on this planet then keeping our species alive. Literally. Everything else is just things people do and say to cope with the fact that we're all going to die one day, no matter what, who, or why we are. I think it's all pointless, but I'm not depressed enough to turn suicidal so I just continue on like all 7 billion some other people." Jack concluded with a heavy sigh, kicking up extra dust and rocks as he scuffled his feet. There was a very long pause before he glanced over at Mark, noticing he was in deep thought.

They reached the bit of land where the old bridge used to be, the wall that supported it long since turned into a rock climbing spot. Beside it was a pathway set with log blocks, but a sign recommended not using it to get up the steep hill. Jack had climbed it plenty of times, of course, always feeling accomplished when he did so, looking down at the occasional rock climber and shouting gruff words of encouragement just because he felt kind of complete.

He admired it and all the lonely times he'd go up there to think, and Mark turned to him and took hold of the arm nearest to him.

"Why are you so deep?" Mark asked sincerely, and Jack nearly gags as the perverted side of him peeps out from the taped box in the back of his head again. He sighed and looked away, feeling Mark's warm hand still wrapped comfortingly around his exposed forearm. When he looked back and met eye contact, he felt embarrassed to feel tears pricking his eyes.

"Because life is a son of a bitch that I'll never forgive. I try and try and try, and nothing ever goes right and I'm just so fucking alone I could scream, but since I'm alone there's no one to care for me. I'm that tree that falls in the forest and no one fucking hears it. I'm so sick of this life, but not sick enough to do anything about it and I keep getting the wrong sickness, it seems, and..and.." tears fall down his face, gravity dragging them out of him and pulling them to the earth into an early grave. His hands are crouched at his eyes, the heel of them kneading at the soaked generators, doing their best to fix the leak - or at least conceal it.

Suddenly, arms were wrapped around his shaking frame and he pushed his head into the shoulder. He knew it was the guy he hardly knew, but he was just the comfort he needed, so the dispute in his head dissolved as he burrowed his head deeper into Mark's shoulder. He smelt of deodorant and coffee, which reminded him of when he was young - when comfort and safety were general expectations instead of basic needs.

Eventually his heart wrenching sobs saw fresh air and began to subside, evolving into sniffles and occasional hiccups. Jack hated that he'd gotten so emotional so easily, but was equally glad he'd been able to truly cry on someone's shoulder. It was...relieving. Mark pulled away slowly but just enough to hold onto Jack's shoulders as he took a good look at him. Jack felt too revealed, as if he were showing Mark his soul - the broken and bandaged mess he called one, at least. Mark used the cuffs of his windbreaker to wipe the still visible tears from Jack's reddened cheeks, a sad smile pulling on the corners of his lips.

"Thanks...for letting me be a total baby for a little bit...sorry, I'm sure that didn't improve your day any. Having to listen to my dark opinions...that's brutal." Jack added slightly comically as he ran a shaking hand through his dirty brown, pepper speckled hair.

"Hey, no - you're opinion is more eye opening and realistic than I've ever heard from another person. Believe it or not, but you're a real special guy - at least to me, now." Mark blinked slowly, admiration and warmth burning lightly in his eyes as his grip on Jack's shoulders grew stronger. Jack grinned back and blushed, disbelief clear on his face.

"Whatever you say, man."

A few moments of silence and Mark pats one of Jack's shoulders before letting go and stepping back a little, keeping a 'comfortable' distance between each other. Very platonic oriented.

"Ya know, we ought to go out for coffee one day. I would say today but I have to be a work in an hour or so, and I know we wouldn't be able to fit everything we wanna talk over in just one hour. How does tomorrow morning work for you?" Mark rattled off more ideas and times and days before Jack interjected, simply wanting to let him know that he would be extremely free.

"It's a date, then! Well, not a date...but, yeah." Mark grinned and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah...so, I'll meet you up here tomorrow at 7 am, and we'll walk to some special place across the bridge where you get all your Morning Joe?" Jack reiterated that plan, hoping to God he didn't end up sleeping in or something. He had a feeling he'd make a special effort for Mark.

A special effort for a special guy.


	4. Chapter 4 - Hopeful and Empty

The next morning, Jack climbed to the top of his apartment building like he did every morning (or whenever he finally woke up), taking in the city one breath at a time as he leaned on the ledge in his boxers. He enjoyed taking a step back from the world and reflecting when he had some free time, and the mornings were perfect for that. Of course usually he wasn't awake until 10:30am or so, but that day he was quick to rise at 6:30am. It was a surprise he'd fallen asleep the night before, what with the next day in full occupation of his mind and imagination. Somehow, though, he was able to catch at least a few hours shut eye.

Now, as he watched the sunrise with tired blue eyes drinking in the scenery like it were his last day on Earth, his excitement began its slow climb. He gripped the low bar on the ledge and closed his eyes as a strong, cool breeze tousled his pepper speckled brown hair. His nerves were in knots just thinking about meeting with Mark, and after taking a deep breath he turned from the ledge and headed back inside to get ready.

The closer he got to the meet up spot, the harder and faster his heart beat. He wished he could simply calm down and strip from his already sweat ridden skin, but knew he had to persevere. He wasn't exactly sure why he was so nervous and anxious - sure, he'd shared a dark spot within his soul to a man he'd met only once before, but that shouldn't have entitled his body to send tremors to his hands. That was just down right rude.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he finally began to climb the stairs, clenching his fists while he tried to think of something deep and mysterious to say to try and impress Mark. Perhaps that would make things weird though...

By the last step up he'd figured out nothing short of anything to say, and found the space to be occupied by a couple. Their fingers were somehow wrapped together among the chain link fence as their gazes were fixed out over the churning river.

Jack was sure that if he were any kind of mugger or just a total ass, he could jump them, and some how lock their hands to the fence. It would surely show them, being all lovey-dovey with their PDA and shit. He knew his bitterness was tagged with slight hypocrisy, but he couldn't help but feel absolutely disgusted while they made goo-goo eyes at each other.

In order to prevent his mouth from voicing any of his radical opinions, he bit down hard on his tongue and squinted his eyes before shuffling awkwardly to the farthest side of the landing. The other side of the flood gate wasn't as scenic, but he looked out over it in an effort to clear his mind.

He couldn't imagine what Mark and he were going to talk about during their outing, or where they were going in the first place, but he knew he had to keep an open mind about it all. He'd always been so closed up and tucked away like the smallest of the Russian Dolls one could continuously uncap and find more and more of. He was sitting quietly in the center, trying not to make a peep as if that would deter anyone from finding him there. Mark was the first in a long time to get so very dangerously close to the center core where he lies, and that both terrified and thrilled him. What it would be to have someone wanting to be a part of his life, wanting to know more about him, listening and laughing at what a sad human he was. Of course, Mark already knew at least a little bit of Jack's depressive tendencies, and would be gentle, surely. Jack hoped he wouldn't be too gentle. He hates pity more than anything. He just needs help.

He wants help.

He'd tried going to a couple different psychiatrists when he was still in school in Ireland, but none of them really impacted him. One taught him that saying a word over and over in his mind could help calm him down to a point. She had suggested the actual word "calm", but he'd like something a little less obvious like "snow" and imagining he was lying in the middle of some, freezing himself to death. He didn't use the method often, to say the least.

An hour or so had gone by since the time they were supposed to meet up, and Jack was starting to get heatedly worried. He cared for Mark and hoped the guy was alright, but he was also livid that he was being seemingly stood up. The couple had moved on 20 minutes before, leaving Jack to steam in his juices alone. He couldn't believe Mark would do something like this to him! Granted, he barely knew the guy, but he thought they'd shared something unique yesterday and felt torn down that he couldn't rely on someone who he'd poured his fucking heart out to.

Perhaps he was in trouble though - Jack's mind reeled with the unending possibilities. What if one of his clients had seen the display and thought it'd be worth their time and money if they abducted or hurt the one person Jack had finally gotten even remotely close with? What if they revealed Jack for what he was and Mark was totally appalled and scared to meet up with such a heinous character?

Jack's hands began to tremble slightly, and his breathing became erratic. How could such awful things be so obvious and hindering to one simple outing? He could never catch a break it seemed...then of course he could always make for sure that nothing truly awful had happened to Mark. He could venture to his apartment and check on him - if he were there and didn't want to talk to Jack, he could take a hint and get lost like he was used to doing. If there were something else more sinister going on, he'd act in a flash. Mark was one of the kindest men he'd ever come to know, and nothing would stop Jack from saving such a humble life.

With determination on his side and his heart on his battered sleeve, he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of Mark suddenly appearing as he left the meet up place and made his way to where he was sure Mark resided. It was a peachy little set of apartments down the street from the pizza place they'd first met at, and he was kind of jealous of how nice it looked.

Once he reached the quaint complex, he entered the tacky lobby and approached the receptionist for Mark. She looked to be the mere ripe age of 18 or so, with a buzz cut and dark skin which had been tanned even further due to hours either at the tanning bed or under the sun, Jack couldn't be sure. She was chewing gum and typing on a laptop, and paused when Jack spoke, giving him a bored glance before continuing her typing. After a minute or so passed, she stopped and picked up a black, corded phone, hit a button with "3B" on it, and waited.

"Hey, Mark, there's somebody down here asking for you." muffled talking and laughter "Well he doesn't look like he's trying to sell anything." more talking "Yeah he just got here. Yeah OK. No problem, Mark." she set the phone back in it's holster and gave Jack an understanding look which hid behind mild concern as she took him in more, really seeing him since he arrived.

"He'll be down in a moment...do you want a mint or anything?" she added carefully, holding up a petite basket filled with cleanly wrapped life savor mints. Jack smirked at the basket and shrugged his shoulders before taking one. Couldn't hurt.

A few minutes later (and several rounds of pacing), Mark finally stepped out from the rather dinky elevator - but he wasn't alone. Jack's stomach seized and flipped, and his hand subconsciously pressed over it. His eyebrows came together in a furrow, and the corners of his mouth turned downwards in distaste. There was another man with Mark, and he had his arm linked loosely through Mark's.

"Oh! Jack? What are you doing here?" Mark paused upon noticing Jack standing timidly next to the front desk, one of his sweaty hands gripping the edge for dear life and turning his knuckles white. He wasn't sure how he should feel. He knew he felt broken up inside, but he hadn't thought _this_ would be why.

"We...we were supposed to meet up...like hours ago. But it's OK, I see you have...company. I won't bother you anymore. I-I'm sorry." Jack stumbled through his words, over his mixed feelings and out the main entrance he'd strolled through several minutes before, when his hopes were still high.

Outside the summer sun was glaring down and starting to cook the sidewalks and streets, a simmering glow lifting off the ground into the horizon as if the earth trapped below were sending out SOS signals. It didn't want to be there just as much as Jack.

As he walked quickly from the building with his chin to his chest and his heart dragged by a string behind him, he eventually stalled out at a bus stop, reaching out and getting a grip on the single pole. The town wouldn't pitch in to get legitimate bus stop enclosures, so whenever it rained and he needed to be somewhere quick, he'd have to bar his teeth and stick it out. He was used to it though - even became accustomed to it. Sure, he'd gotten sick a couple of times, but he'd made it through somehow. That's all he'd boiled down to be - someone who was living for no reason, but did it anyways.

He heaved a heavy sigh and brought himself closer to the pole, the metal being warmed from the sun. He hugged it shamelessly, the tickle in the back of his throat crawling up into his eyes and nose like it always did. The breathless choke came first, followed closely by blurry vision and the need to fold in on himself and disappear forever. He didn't break down in public usually, but for some reason it just kept happening to him and he felt he couldn't do anything about it. It was just how it was.

He took a moment to try to gather himself together and think a little more clearly. He knew he was probably overreacting. Who knew who that other guy actually was? Could've just been a friend, or a brother, or a blind guy...or maybe more. What was it Jack's business to know who the other man was, or if he had close relations to Mark? He hadn't really gotten the vibe that Mark was actually gay - or even bi - but he wasn't against the possibilities. He'd honestly been hoping for them. It seemed he'd hoped a little too hard though, and had missed the bus entirely in that sense.

Finally, with a shake of his head and a wipe of his eyes with his shirt sleeve, he pushed away from the bus stop pole and continued his walk, taking a moment to spit his mint into a trash can with a lilt of bitterness.

 _On with the your original broadcasting..._

 **Heyyyy I'm SOOOO sorry for taking soooo fucking long to write this one stupid sad short chapter. Honestly. But I wanna thank y'all for all the reviews and stuff because it warms my cold dark soul and urges me to write even more! If you have any input, I'd love to hear it. Constructive criticism helps me so much tho ~~ OK, thanks!**

 **-Carrie**


	5. Chapter 5 - Hurt and Comfort

The next time Jack ran into Mark, he hadn't expected it to be right after an important deal had gone sour. A large, black and purple, fist shaped bruise on his left cheek was starting to form like he was a banana – a depressed, over ripe banana at that. He'd tried reasoning with himself (especially after the incident with Mark) to just give up on building a stable life in America – perhaps his parents would take him back if he begged and griped enough. Or maybe they wouldn't – although he'd never know if he didn't ask. Though they'd probably never pick up the phone...maybe?

Either way, he'd continued with his downward path and ended up with the lowest of the low, which happened to be next to an overflowing restaurant dumpster with his knees pulled to his chest and his eyes bloodshot and finally dried. He had simply ached to sit alone in the alleyway and die – whether it be of starvation or diseases, he couldn't care less. He just wished for the pain to be numbed.

So when he was tapped lightly on the shoulder and expected a police officer coming to check on him, he was (Pleasantly? Awkwardly? Terribly?) surprised to find the hand belonged to Mark. Then again, Mark did seem to have a keen ability of sniffing Jack out, even when he didn't realize he had. Richmond was a pretty big city, so it wasn't like they were sneaking around corners and tiptoeing through life. Of course there were a couple of times when Jack had spotted Mark jogging and had either hidden or spun around in the other direction, his feet carrying him anywhere but wherever Mark was going. He was acting absolutely childish, sure, but he just couldn't handle the confrontation. He didn't have much of a choice now, though.

"Jack? Hey...are you OK? What- what happened to your face?" as soon as they locked eyes, Mark was instinctively asking questions and lightly trailing his fingers over the bruise. Jack wanted to both flinch away and lean into Mark's gentle touch, his heart a conflicted mess, and decided that he'd remain stock still. He didn't want to let on that he felt much worse on the inside than the outside, so he simply stared blankly up at Mark, a tint of sadness dragging the color from his eyes which used to be so bright. Mark's own dark eyes tried to focus on him - tried to scan him and pull the truth out from the strange depths that had shut itself off.

"I'm not sure what happened to you, and you don't have to tell me, but I have been looking for you." Mark offered him a conversation piece along with his hand as he stood up and reached out to Jack who cocked his head in slight confusion.

"Why would you be looking for me?" he croaked out finally, and Mark pursed his lips in a frown that read _"it's complicated"_ all over.

"Come with me for a drink and I'll tell? Please? You look dry as a bone - a meal too?" Mark's doe-eyes bore into Jack's and the latter let out a deep sigh, followed by a solemn nod. Mark grinned thankfully as Jack reached up with a pale, shaking hand and grasped his, stumbling to his feet. He wasn't sure if taking up Mark's offer of a drink and a meal was very wise, but he figured he had nothing else to lose. Not only that, but despite what Jack had seen that fateful day several weeks ago, he still believed Mark was a very good man and deserved much better than any pitiful friendship he could form with Jack. He also figured he may as well humor him - whose to say they couldn't still have a small friendship? Jack was still quite curious about Mark and realized he'd missed him more than he was able to admit.

They headed down and out of the alleyway, turning together into the busy city sidewalk, practically hand in hand with shoulders brushing and careful glances. Mark lead them a few blocks before slowing and opening the door of a restaurant that almost made Jack snort.

 _Siné Irish Pub and Restaurant_

"Mark, you can not be serious." Jack muttered to him, a chuckle breaking free and surprising him. Mark glanced back at him with a wide smile as he tugged him through the doorway, the thick smell of food that his dry tongue hadn't tasted in years finally touching base with him again and making his head spin.

"Mark! Hey, man, what have you been up to? It feels like ages since I've seen ya - oh and who's this lad?" a burly man clad in a red plaid shirt behind the bar shouted out warmly, throwing his arms open with a welcoming smile. He had a thick Irish accent that ran chills down Jack's spine - he hadn't heard such a pure accent in years, and it was a bittersweet sound.

Mark jogged up to the bar and clasped his hand in the man's, nearly pulling the guy over the counter to exchange a bro hug. Jack grinned with raised eyebrows as he approached the two as they eventually parted. Jack would be lying if he were to say he hadn't felt his stomach shifted slightly out of jealousy - not out of romanticism, but hating he and Mark hadn't yet established a friendship as easy going.

"Heyyyy, Xavier, it has been forever, man, I apologize for not stopping by more often! This is my friend, Jack, by the way - he's actually from Ireland too; right? Yeah, we kind of really only met a day or so ago, but he's so chill that I figured it may be something more, you catchin' my drift?" Mark winked at Jack and lightly punched Xavier's shoulder. Jack blushed again and let out a nervous laugh. Was that really what Mark thought? Did he actually want something more with Jack? Or did he simply mean 'bros' since technically they weren't even that far along. Time would tell, surely.

Xavier silently eyed Jack for a moment or two, as if he were scanning him to be on the safe side. Jack bowed his head slightly and looked up from under his long eyelashes, hoping to prove he was nothing but a fair stranger trying to pry himself from the wall which he typically resided on. A mischievous smile crossed over Xavier's bearded face then, and a hearty laugh erupted from his thin lips.

"Aye, so Jack - what family are yeh from?" Xavier asked curiously, propping his head in his hand as he leaned his weight on his elbow on the counter. His eyes pierced Jack's, and Jack could feel himself start to sweat. Mark turned his attention fully on Jack then as well, though his look was more filled with wonder and innocence than seeking any real information. They would have plenty of time for that once they actually sat down and had something to eat. Jack glanced around for a split second, realizing that the restaurant wasn't nearly as busy as he'd initially thought it'd been. His suspicions were raised a bit, but he shook his head a little and focused on Xavier's question.

"Oh, McLoughlin - what about you?" Jack answered with an easy grin, his follow up question a little more relaxed as he settled into the conversation. Xavier lead his answer with a hearty laugh and a story that lasted till there were really only a few other people left in the pub. Jack had never felt so enthralled with someone - except for Mark, perhaps - and knew he'd be visiting the pub more often.

Eventually they moved to a booth against a large set of windows and a waitress set out a couple of dark drinks with a wink at Mark before she retreated behind the bar. Mark gave Jack an amused glance before turning his attention to the menus which were already on the table.

They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, flipping back and forth through the menus and furrowing their brows, deeply torn between their stomachs and their wallet. Even though Jack knew he wasn't paying, he definitely didn't want to be that person who pigged out when someone else's bank account was on the line.

Jack took a sip of the mysterious dark, bubbling drink, and flinched away with a hiss after just a small sip. The devil laid curled up in his glass, it seemed, as he was sickened by the taste of a familiar alcoholic drink he hadn't had in years, and still haunted him sometimes when he felt especially dry. Mark noticed Jack's sudden anguish and perked an eyebrow along with a corner of his mouth.

"Everything OK?" he asked quietly, watching as Jack visibly drew into himself as a wave of shivers racked his thin frame. He nodded with blurred eyes, pushing the cold drink away from him and towards the window and vowing to never touch it again despite the tickle of fullness it brought to both his stomach and mind.

"Yeah, uh, I just haven't drank in a long time and I'm not sure I wanna pick up that habit again..." Jack explained with a sour expression thrown at the abandoned drink. Mark said he understood and didn't drink much anymore either since it would probably literally kill him due to his Korean ancestry.

"Really? Damn, that sucks - but also not, I guess. Alcohol is kind of a temporary high, huh?" Jack offered, half smiling as he glanced between his folded hands on the table and Mark. Mark nodded slowly as a grin crept over his thoughtful look just as the waitress approached them again, pad and pencil in hand.

"So what can I get for you, boys?" she asked in a sweet drawl, focusing more so on Mark, just as Jack was. He couldn't really blame her since Mark was just so...Mark, but that didn't make him any less jealous. Mark shifted in his seat as he told her his order in quite the formal tone, no real suave hints slipped in, which surprised Jack. He'd pegged Mark for more of a sweet talker or something of the sort, but he seemed to be just that way around... Jack had some things to figure out at a later date. Or asap.

Realizing that he hadn't even figured out what he wanted, Jack simply dittoed Mark's order, unaware of what he'd gotten in the first place, but trusting Mark's seemingly good taste. There was a heavy silence that laid in between them and it didn't bother Jack until he remembered what Mark had promised he'd reveal about their last encounter. Jack could tell Mark seemed on edge, if only a little, and it made him cringe inwardly. He could only imagine what sad truth would burst from Mark's pursed lips, and the countless endings of their outing had his anxiety quickly rising.

"I-I'm sorry about the misunderstanding we had a couple weeks ago...I feel terrible for not showing up, for one, and especially not going after you when things didn't go how I thought. My friend from England had flown in as a surprise for the weekend and I totally forgot we were meeting. I hope I can make it up to you if this doesn't..." Mark watched Jack tentatively as Jack picked at the scabs around his fingernail, staring blankly as a bubble of blood sprung loose from one on his thumb. He rubbed it off on his pants and finally glanced up at Mark, the wide brown eyes that met his were filled with regret and hope, the dull light that hung over their booth giving his eyes an eerie shimmer as they searched his own for some sort of answer.

"It's OK. I understand. You had company, and I acted like a total bigot. 'Sno problem. This is just fine." Jack answered mechanically having lost the will to sound convincing. There was a dull, silent beat slamming against the inside of his skull just above his eyes and he knew he couldn't last much longer. He just wanted to receive the promised food and get back home. He hadn't realized how weary he was until Mark started talking so seriously - his energy had fled like the warm atmosphere between them.

"Somehow I don't believe you...but after what you've been through today I suppose I'll let it slide for now." Mark sighed uncertainly, shifting in his seat as the waitress brought them their identical plates. They nodded their thanks and she left without a word, striking Jack as odd considering her friendly nature earlier, and Jack was just fine with that.

Focusing his attention on his plate, he found a rather large burger piled high with different sorts of vegetables and condiments, and his mouth watered purely from the sight and smell. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an amazing - and probably expensive - burger as such, and wondered if he should try to savor it. Although his stomach screamed at him to eat it as fast as he could, his brain and taste buds sternly ordered him not to do so. _Very well._

Mark plucked up the long, sliver of pickle on the side from the sea of fries and gingerly took a bite, the juice rolling in a thick line from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. The sight would've been somewhat arousing if not gross, but Jack's own burger called back his full attention and he knew he had only so many eyes.

His first bite let free an embarrassing moan, but he stuck with it, his eyes squeezed shut and jaw slowly turning the food about in his mouth in attempt to live in only the sensation of absolute amazement it brought him. He could hear Mark chuckling at him, and when he opened a single eye at him he found Mark's cheeks were also a light shade red. _What a curious man..._

Jack took his time eating, even after Mark finished several minutes before and already quickly working on his fries. Most of their meal time was filled with small chuckles at the other and happy eating noises which sometimes made each other blush in spite of themselves.

After they'd settled down some and were slowing down and working on the last of their fries, Jack felt surprisingly comfortable - enough to pop a certain question that had been working at him ever since he'd last seen Mark.

"So who was your friend anyways? Is he just a friend, close relative, or like...something else?" He attempted to ask nonchalantly, though his voice broke in uncertainty when he tried to imply more. Mark grinned at him and shook his head.

"He's literally just an old friend that I used to play video games with. We became pretty close for a few years, but got caught up in other stuff and nearly lost touch. He was really in town for some sort of meeting with a gaming company, but knew where I lived from past visits and figured we could catch up some. He didn't stick around long after you came by for some reason though...I guess he realized that I'd kind of moved on or something. I definitely don't game as much as I used to, so I know he was kind of bummed about that since that was mostly all we had in common." Mark turned his gaze out the window, eyes shifting uneasily. "Now that I think about it, we didn't have much in common at all. I'm not sure how we became so close."

Jack hummed a quiet response and followed his gaze to the shop across the street which held funnily posed hipster-line mannequins in the front window. People passed by, cars with people inside of them passed by, planes and helicopters with people in them passed by overhead - people were everywhere doing everything, and yet it felt like the world had frozen. Jack's fries were now cold and thus abandoned as he took off in deep thought, mulling over everything Mark had said and feeling shamefully giddy about it all.

"Anyways...so since I've gone on about all of that, is there any chance you'll tell me what happened to you earlier today to give you those bruises?" Mark prodded experimentally, and Jack shrunk back physically with a slow shake of his head. Mark shrugged with a small smile.

"Can't blame me for trying. Well, would you like to take a walk then? Maybe we could head back to my place and hang out?" Mark offered warmly, and Jack found himself blushing at the idea of hanging out with Mark at his apartment, "hanging out" becoming a euphemism.

"Umm, sure, that would be cool." Jack vocalized his rising excitement, his voice light and pleased that Mark actually wanted to spend more time with such a smol, sad Irish potato as himself.

 _Dreams do come true. Or else it's too good to be true._


End file.
